à Paris
by Nightengale
Summary: Sherlock and John take a holiday to Paris. Short bit of fluff - SherlockxJohn - full of banter and smush


Sherlock frowns as the taxi carries the two of them down the Champs-Élysées toward their hotel. John figures it must be mandated in the Paris taxi charter to always take the monument route, be sure the tourists see where to drop their money.

"Hmmph." Sherlock drums his fingers on the seat between them.

"Sherlock..." John warns because he's heard this rant already.

"Bolivia wouldn't be so artificial."

John rolls his eyes. "It's not artificial, it's historical."

Sherlock jerks a finger at the shops lining the road. "You know very well I meant the blatant commercialism decorating our path in light up nonsense. The Arc de Triomphe is fine. "

"Commercialism does quite a bit to encourage crime though."

Sherlock scoffs, "not the interesting kind."

"You only wanted to go to Bolivia because of the case in the paper about the -"

"Of course," Sherlock interrupts, "they'd obviously got it wrong and the coffee fields were -"

"No, Sherlock, the point of a holiday is to NOT work."

Sherlock turns and gives John one of his classic 'really?' looks.

John points at him, "there are other things to life than work and you know it. We had a Christmas party."

"Forced social gatherings and shopping do not count."

"You had fun."

"I did no-"

"You got to show off your violin pla-"

"That was just a -"

"And what with the Irene -"

"Oh, don't bring it up again; you and your jealousy over-"

"I am not jealous, I-"

"We're here."

John and Sherlock turn to the cab driver and then look to their right to the hotel beside them. The driver raises both eyebrows at them in the rear view mirror. Sherlock nods and sweeps out of the cab.

"Uh... merci," John says passing over euros.

John gets the bags from the taxi and follows after the wake of Sherlock's coat into the hotel. Sherlock is already taking a set of keys from the woman behind the counter. Oddly she is smiling and John assumes some sort of 'oh is that your man, how sweet, aren't gay people cute' conversation passed while Sherlock ignored everything she said.

"So?" John slides up to Sherlock, tries to hand Sherlock his bag with no success; John the bell hop.

Sherlock flashes the keys and strides across the lobby like everyone is watching. "King."

John rolls his eyes.

They take the lift up four floors and Sherlock leads them to their hotel room. Once inside John sees they do in fact have a king bed and plenty of space for Sherlock to make a ridiculous mess which John knows he will definitely find a way to do.

"Oh horrid..." Sherlock mutters.

John drops the bags on the bed. "We don't use the glasses or the bed cover, Sherlock, so it doesn't matter."

Sherlock pivots and purses his lips at John. John can tell he doesn't want to ask how John knew which things Sherlock disapproved of in the room, most likely due to their suspect cleanliness.

Sherlock cocks his head, "repetitious?"

John nods. "Every time you enter a suite."

Sherlock turns back to the window with a 'hmm.'

John opens his bag and roots around for his camera. He's only been to Paris the once and that was when he was thirteen - Harry spending the whole time dragging them around the Louvre as if it were the only tourist site in the whole city. He is going up the Eiffel tower this time, tourist predictability be damned.

"So, where t-" before John can finish his sentence Sherlock flops back on the bed, eyes on the ceiling. "Oh, god," John puts a hand over his eyes.

"Paris John," Sherlock begins and John wonders if he should find something to gag the man with. "Paris." Sherlock spits out the word. "A pool of Parisian disdain and self indulgent superiority, idiotic Americans who think Paris is the ideal of europe and now us."

"Paris is a lovely city, Sherlock."

Sherlock scoffs.

"Well, what does it matter, because we're here Sherlock and you're not going to lie on the bed the whole time analyzing the wall paper."

Sherlock pouts, eyes still on the ceiling. "You could lie here with me."

"I could not. I have a camera that needs to be used." Sherlock turns his head and raises one eyebrow slowly. John cracks a smile, "for sight seeing."

"Hmm, I see."

"Do you?"

"Objectively."

"Are you going to objectively or literally come with me? I would suggest the latter."

Sherlock sighs. "Of course you would."

"You came along on this trip Sherlock; you could have laid around at home but you're here."

Sherlock sits up suddenly. "Fine."

John blinks. "Fine?"

"Yes."

"Right. Okay, good."

"There were a few Moriarty leads which -"

"No!" John snaps, "I said no work"

Sherlock sighs heavily. "John, our Jim Moriarty is not just work, he is a mastermind who -"

"Who is not here with you on this holiday!" John interjects then after a pause, "thank god."

Sherlock stands up and paces in front of the window. "Holiday. Ridiculous. How did you get me to agree to such an outrageous waste of time?"

"I said please."

Sherlock stops pacing and actually looks at John. John smiles once and tilts his head. John watches Sherlock ease slightly and his lips form a pleasant line. "Ah. Quite."

"So? Where to then?"

Sherlock taps his foot and with obvious effort he forms the words, "what should you like to see, John?" And he smiles, half genuine and half what he knows he should do.

John smiles back, completely fond. "We could do the Eiffel tower now or perhaps tonight, would be good with the city lit up."

Sherlock nods. "Scenic?"

John grins, "scenic."

"Hmm, maybe the Basilica then? Or Palace de la Concorde?" John continues.

Sherlock smiles slightly and fidgets. John imagines if they went anywhere Sherlock would prefer a museum. He does appreciate history and if that failed there would be people to catalog and over analyze.

"Let's just walk outside and see then, all right?" John holds out a hand to Sherlock.

Sherlock steps forward and takes John's hand. "No shopping."

John laughs. "Deal."

They get a cab and do a quick tour of some of the large landmarks - the Flame of Liberty, Place des Vosges - "the first example of royal city planning, John" - and the Basilica. John snaps photos, admires architecture and watches Sherlock with one eye as the taller man slowly warms up to the trip.

With barely a pause for lunch they end up at the Notre Dame. Sherlock chuckles at a sign on the side door advising to watch for pickpockets and they go inside for all the gothic glory. Rows of pews fill the front half while tourists seem to fill all other available space, some lighting candles in prayer but most with their cameras pointed upward at the ornate ceiling.

"German."

John snaps a picture of the altar and cocks an ear toward Sherlock. "German what?"

"Tourists."

"And whole lot of other nationalities too, I'm sure."

"Hmm yes, but predominantly German at the moment. Percentage wise at least."

"Are they really the most interesting thing in here?"

"Bus tour perhaps?" Sherlock cock his head. "Hmm city bus tour, Paris, Vienna, Brussels."

John suddenly snaps a picture of Sherlock. Sherlock blinks hard then glares accusingly at John.

"Oh, the great Sherlock Holmes!" John whispers. "Where's his hat?"

Sherlock laughs once. "Not my hat."

"I'm going to buy you one."

"You won't."

John shrugs. "Wait and see."

"I'd never wear it."

John leans back and takes a shot of the roof. "You would."

"I don't wear hats."

"True." John nods assuredly. "Too many curls."

The corner of Sherlock's lip quirks but he holds off on another snappy reply. John weaves through the people, Sherlock half following with his eyes again on the people instead of the cathedral. John stops, after a full circle, at the front where the tall doors stand, one closed off for maintenance. After a minute Sherlock slides up next to John, hands in the pockets of his long coat.

"It is beautiful," John says after a moment.

"Perfectly good example of gothic cathedral architecture though certainly not the most grand despite its fame."

"Ever an education with Sherlock Holmes..."

Sherlock snorts. "Have you had enough cathedral?"

"All right." They turn and exit through one pair of large doors. Back out in the sunlight John puts his camera away.

"Do you have money for a coffee?" Sherlock asks suddenly. "Left my wallet at the hotel."

John rolls his eyes. "Of course you did."

John reaches into his jacket pocket only to find it empty. "What.. wher..." John touches his back pockets, looks inside his jacket.

"Oh yes, that's right," Sherlock says pulling something out of his pocket, "no need for my wallet, I've got yours."

Sherlock smiles smugly.

John raises an eyebrow. "You pickpocketed me?"

"Did you read the sign?"

John takes his wallet back from Sherlock. "I did."

"Hmm, didn't take the message to heart then?"

"Oh, you know, all that distracting architecture."

Sherlock raises both eyebrows and walks away from the cathedral.

"And for the record," he calls over his shoulder, "I did not pickpocket you, I pickpocketed the woman who pickpocketed you."

John makes no effort to stop a grin.

They walk through Paris stopping to get John a sandwich while John enjoys Sherlock's running commentary of passers by's personal details and random bits of obscure Parisian history.

"Bolivian tourist."

"You are making that up!"

"Yes."

John keeps a tab in his head of things which hold Sherlock's interest, if only to try and create his own map - or web - of Sherlock's brain.

"So, we should end on the Eiffel tower."

John looks up with a piece of pasta half way in his mouth. "Hrrm?"

"The Eiffel tower, large world's fair tower which turned out to not be temporary?"

John gives Sherlock a withering look and swallows his pasta. "Never heard of it."

Sherlock takes a sip of his wine and ignores John's dark humor. "We have seen a good number of sights today both visually appealing and historically significant and so," Sherlock clears his throat. Sherlock taps his fork on his plate and looks out the window. "Well, it seems like a good climax for the day and... well..." John rests his fork on his plate and watches Sherlock. Sherlock's eyes wander over the edges of the window then he glances at John. "You said you wanted to go."

John smiles slowly and makes a circle with what is left of his dinner. Sherlock looks away again and John smiles more.

Twenty minutes later they stand in the queue for the elevator. Sherlock sneers, not the full on 'oh no Anderson' sneer but the simple 'oh normal people' sneer. Tame to be sure. John yawns, half leaning against Sherlock. It's not really late but they have been on the go all day.

"John?" Sherlock touches John's shoulder as if checking that John is actually awake.

"I'm here."

They wait fifteen minutes until they make it to the elevator and express right to the top level. Sherlock stalks across the black steel, coat blowing in the wind like he'd planned it. John snaps a picture, Sherlock unawares for once, in profile. He is not frowning.

Sherlock turns to look at John. "Don't you wish to admire your view?"

John chuckles and steps up to Sherlock. They both walk over to the edge, Paris lit up below - city life, flowing river, ferris wheel, and all the old city breathing. John smiles but doesn't take a photo, the view isn't something for two dimensions.

John nudges Sherlock with his shoulder. "Any more history lessons?"

"No." The back of Sherlock's hand brushes John's and his fingers push slightly, knuckles slotting into the spaces between John's.

John hooks his pinky finger around Sherlock's and turns to him. "It's lovely, isn't it?"

Sherlock looks down at him with a real smile and touches the tip of his nose to John's. "Yes, it is."


End file.
